“Haven't you always been fat?” I teased while carefully applying mascara.

“Chubby. I've always been kind of chubby. But this…” he grabbed two handfuls of belly and shook. “...this is recent.”

I reached over and clicked off the lamp, having finished my makeup. I stood from my desk and sauntered to my sweet boyfriend Neil as he stood on the scale in the bathroom. I came up from behind him and slid my hands under his arms, over his smooth hips, and my fingers grazed his fuller belly.

Yes, he was getting fat. And it was my fault.

I glanced down just in time to see 247 disappear from the display. Involuntarily, my eyes widened but I quickly composed myself. For a moment, I considered slowing down his gaining. But I've already gotten him so accustomed to such large portions that he isn't satisfied until he's surpassed his capacity. I realized at this point, it may be out of both of our hands.

“Well suit up, Tubbo. We got to get moving,” I said, slapping him on the ass. It wobbled for a fraction of a second and I cringed.

Yes, I was making him fat, but not because I liked it. Because I didn’t back then. I was fattening him up because we were over. You see, Neil was a super nice guy. Everyone loved him. Hell, I loved him. But he just wasn't really...doing it for me lately.

He was boring to be honest. Though only to me, I guess. Everyone else thought he was a lot of fun. But they didn't have to live with him.

Either way, there weren't a lot of legitimate reasons for me to leave him that didn't make me come off as a bitch.

The thing is: I’m kind of hot.

Not quite out of Neil's league (he’s pretty good-lookin’ himself), but almost. And there aren't many people that would fault me for leaving Neil if he no longer met my standards. I'm sorry but there's a reason you never see women like me out with fatties.

So I decided to make him a fatty.

But I also realized that I had a narrow window to work with. I had to make him get fat enough to justify a breakup, but not so fat that he'd need my assistance to do daily tasks. The goal here was to make a clean break without seeming like a terrible person.

So I really had to plan my timing accordingly. The initial breakup weight I had planned for was an even 300. But when I saw he was nearly 250 after only a few weeks of my guidance, I wasn't sure if I should slow down or set a higher goal for him.

Fate has a way of sorting these things out.

“Who are these people again?” Neil asked, coming out of the restroom, buttoning his shirt.

“Trent and Mallory,” I replied, putting in my earrings. “You know Trent! You met him at that thing. He works with me at the gym. And Mallory is his girlfriend.”

As if he suddenly decided he didn't care, he rubbed his belly and replied: “Well let's roll. I'm starving.”

----

A Moovn ride and an awkward shuffling past the hostess later, we were munching on chips, salsa, and guac while discussing the annoyance of “surge pricing.”

His girlfriend Mallory was adorable. She just seemed super happy to be there. Her eyes would make little crescents whenever she smiled. While she was quite attractive, she didn't seem like a good match for Trent. Mallory just wasn't in perfect shape. She was thin, definitely, yet also soft.

“So how’d you two meet?” Mallory asked as if she was digging into something scandalous.

“Neil was the IT guy sent to the gym to install our new digital record-keeping system.” I answered since Neil was pushing a chip carrying a wad of queso past his lips at the moment.

“Oh cool!” Mallory declared. “And you and Trent met working for the gym! How funny! Have you met all the men in your life at your job?”

I was thrown off guard and couldn’t tell if she was genuinely curious or subtly threatening. Hoping for the former, I chuckled and replied: “I guess so!”

We all shared a laugh and I realized Mallory was just messing with me. Around this moment, the waitress appeared and with a friendly smile, flipped open her note pad before asking: “What can I get ya?”

Placing my left hand on Neil’s right shoulder as he hunched over a basket of nachos, scooping them into his mouth, taking two or three bites before swallowing, I ordered for him: “He’ll have two chicken tacos, two fish, two steak, three porkbelly, two veggie avocado, the rice plate with refried and black beans, and a fajita-veggie bean burrito, please.”

I paused for a moment to let the order linger in the air and for the waitress to catch up as she scribbled furiously to record it all. And to my delight, she read it back to us, each dish said landing like a thud in my chest and stomach, like the potential pounds these words will eventually become on Neil’s body.

I requested the house salad for myself while Trent and Mallory each asked for two chicken tacos.

When the food finally arrived, it took three waitresses to carry and disseminate the plates. The table began to groan as dishes pushed other dishes aside, bits of avocado spilling onto the chicken tacos.

My focus was on Neil as he watched his meal multiply before him. A moan hummed from between his pursed lips. He seemed to be a little embarrassed but I believe his rationale was that he didn’t order it all; I did.

And at this point, I had already sabotaged his diet to the point that his hunger at its lowest simmer would never refuse such vast amounts of food. I momentarily thought about my earlier consideration on slowing things down, giving him a chance to adapt to his thickening body and swelling hunger. But it was gone when I saw him bring the first porkbelly taco to his mouth and crush half of it in an enormous bite. He began chewing, holding the torn edge of the latter half inches from his lips.

“That’s quite an appetite you got there, man!” Trent exclaimed.

Neil was waiting to swallow before he could respond, but I interjected: “It’s how we’re kicking his metabolism into high gear. Ain’t that right, babe?” Neil nodded. Still chewing.

“I’m thinking of introducing this method to my clients, but I have to see how it plays out first. Neil, my sweet baby, has been gracious enough to be my guinea-” I paused while Neil stifled a belch with his mouth full “-pig.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s working,” Neil admitted after he swallowed. “I’ve gained nearly twenty pounds this month alone. Forty since the beginning of the year.”

“Babe, I told you there would be some weight gain. It’s experimental and unorthodox but I really think once we hit phase two, you’re going to see a dramatic loss in mass. You will tighten up and slim out and in an abnormally short period. It’s going to blow minds and we are going to revolutionize fitness and weight management,” I lied.

Neil rolled his eyes, shoveling a mound of black-bean-topped rice into his mouth. And another. And another.

In retrospect, I have no idea how he managed to finish off those churros we got at the end of the meal. But it also explains what happened next.

----

Bills were paid, tips were left, and we were standing out front saying our goodbyes. Jokes were made, hugs were had, we parted ways, and requested a car. With a chime, the app informed us that we’d soon be picked up in a Camry driven by a woman named Tiana.

When it pulled up, I opened the rear passenger door for Neil and with a hand on his belly, he sidled into the seat; grunting as if in pain and being careful not to disturb the injury. I watched him move with the carefulness of someone transporting an explosive by hand, cradling the fragile package as he eased into rest.

I shut the door for him and moved around to the other side, settling into the rear driver-side seat. And we rolled away from the restaurant, on our way home.

“How are you guys this evening?” Tiana asked.

“Wonderful, how are you?” I reciprocated while Neil stifled another belch, causing his stomach to growl impatiently.

“Just fine, thank you,” Tiana answered. She read off our home address in the form of a question and I confirmed that was our destination. I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Alright then!”

“How’re you holding up, baby?” I asked Neil, resting my hand on top of his while his right hand rubbed his expanded stomach. The buttons were straining against his swelling belly and breasts, like he had been inflated. He stopped rubbing and let his hand rest on the crest of his tummy and he moaned. His moaning slowly twisted into a strained grunt and his face tightened in exertion.

But it was futile.

A yawning rumble of gas exploded from Neil’s softer butt. It flowed from him for what seemed like minutes. My jaw fell, yet the corners of my mouth turned upward into a grin as I watched his face slowly relax from the release of pressure. The roar of his ass ended in what seemed like a question, the pitch gradually rising towards the end.

There was a moment of silence for Neil’s dignity before Tiana broke it. “Wow,” she said before breaking into a fit of laughter. She rolled down all the windows, giggling to herself, trying to keep a low profile.

I couldn’t tell if Neil realized what he had just done as he was clutching his belly and gasping for air. It took everything out of him to unleash that into the world, formed in his belly, birthed by his butt.

“Oh don’t worry. I grew up with an older brother that was about twice your boyfriend’s size. I’m no stranger to gassy fat guys,” Tiana laughed.

“Well,” I said as my eyes moved up Neil’s more rounded form. “This is new territory for us.”

----

About two months later, Neil had reached 300 pounds. Maybe more. We didn’t know until he stepped on our scale and it read: “Err.”

Our scale maxed at 300, so we’d have to pick up a new one for a more accurate reading. But that was neither in the budget nor the cards. We had to keep Neil fed.

I had to keep him fed.

And therein lies the problem. At some point before we found out Neil was too fat for our scale, I had become...invested.

His size was a direct result of my influence. His mass was cultivated by me. I was an artist, a sculptor, and Neil was my masterpiece.

Or rather, a work-in-progress.

I wasn’t done with him. I couldn’t be. It felt wrong to leave now. We had to go further. The question entered my mind before I had manufactured an answer: “Just how far can we take this?”

Trent, however, needed a bit more convincing. Over the past few months, he and I had developed something of a rapport. I guess it goes back even further than that, but he had almost as much invested in Neil’s growth as I had. The understanding was, after leaving Neil, I would be able to be with Trent.

“The guy’s a pig! I don’t think anyone would fault you for taking your leave,” Trent said during a Saturday afternoon phone call as I sat on the edge of the bed.

At that point, I faintly heard a groaning fart coming from the bathroom, amplified by its acoustics. Neil was in there, making room for his next course. Since he’s never in there for less than half-an-hour, I took the time to call Trent and update him on the situation.

“It’s not about that, anymore. I feel a responsibility to him,” I explained as best I could. I’m not sure if that was entirely true, but it was how I externally justified my investment, hoping Trent wouldn’t probe any deeper.

“So you’re telling me you aren’t leaving him? That you and I will never be together?” he asked. I could tell he was upset. It was obvious in his uneven voice.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I interjected before he could continue that line of thought. “What about you and Mallory?” I deflected. But he was in the exact same boat I was.

“I’m waiting for the right time,” he said after a pause.

“Oh come on,” I groaned. “Look, there’s a way out of this for both of us.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“How fat do you think you can make Mallory in six months?” I asked.

I heard the toilet flush and the air freshener being sprayed. “I got to go,” I whispered, not waiting for a response as I touched the big red X on my screen to end the call. I heard Trent get out a syllable of confusion.

Neil emerged from the restroom and I was greeted with his fragrance. Hiis essence dominated our apartment, with regular bursts to bolster it. I was concerned that I had become noseblind to it, but that wasn’t quite true as I had actually become quite fond of it. It was a reminder of everything I had given him, everything I had pushed past his lips with my own fingers. It was the end result of a relentless diet; a body working overtime to digest, distribute, and disperse every calorie that it had consumed.

But it’s also why I don’t invite friends over anymore. “Are you ready for your lunch?” I asked, sweetly.

Hand on his belly, soothing it and petting it and enjoying a rare moment of calm within it, he nodded with a smile.

I returned a grin, more mischievous than I intended, and rose to my feet.

He followed me to the kitchen and I pulled out his chair as I passed it on my way to the fridge. I heard the chair creak as it accepted Neil’s bulk. I moved deli meats, pizza boxes, Chinese food containers, and beer and soda cans to find a tinfoil-wrapped sandwich the size of a football.

I turned around to see Neil lick his lips, his eyes lower than my gaze. I realized he had been watching my ass while I was bent over in front of the fridge but suddenly began to wonder if it was my body he lusted after, or all the food crowding the inside. I was in my gym shorts and a belly shirt so I was looking very “comfy chic” which, I think, is Neil’s favorite aesthetic.

Neil’s gray undershirt was pulled flat around his pillowy form with half his beanbag belly stuffed into his stretchy pajama bottoms. He was becoming quite cuddly at this stage in his gain. Before, his bulk could maybe be mistaken for muscle but not anymore. Neil was officially taking on a circular, doughy shape, only achievable through excessive eating and minimal activity.

With both hands on the sides of his sandwich, his chubby digits sinking into the bread as they would his own fat, he took his first big bite, immediately followed by his second and third before he allowed himself to chew all he had gathered in his mouth. He moaned as if he was a couple of strokes into a handjob, breathing deeply through his nose as he chewed; his eyes closed to maximize his sense of taste.

I opened a cupboard and grabbed a family-sized bag of BBQ kettle chips. I watched him shove more sandwich into his mouth, his jaw struggling to keep up with his hands, and pull back again to allow himself a moment to chew. Another moan, another deep breath, and a muffled fart.

His eyes shot open and we locked our gazes. With a smile, I placed the bag in front of him for easy access and winked as I slowly and seductively fanned my nose.

“Whew,” I breathed.

“Sorry,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich, a crimson tone spreading through his cheeks.

“Aww, honey, I’ve told you: it’s no problem. It’s a known side effect of the diet I have you on,” I lied. Kinda. “It’s one way the body rids itself of the excess calories it doesn’t need.”

“Speaking of which,” he said before swallowing the massive bites muffling his speech. “How much longer do I need to stay on this diet before it starts yielding results? I only feel like I’m getting fatter. I broke the scale!” he reminded me, though he didn’t need to.

“Relax or your body will have an adverse reaction to the way it adjusts to the program and you actually WILL get fatter.” I placed my hand on his shoulder and he looked into my eyes for a moment before hanging his head, emotionally exhausted.

“I tried weighing myself the other day and it didn’t work for me either,” I lied again. “And I’m obviously well beneath its capacity,” I tried to comfort him without sounding boastful of my own flawless physique. I couldn’t tell if he was buying it but he took another bite of the sandwich so I assumed that was a good sign.

“I promise,” I continued. “By the end of this month, you’re going to see some big changes!”

I patted his belly and felt my nethers twitch at its malleability. He grabbed a handful of chips and took a bite out of them as if he were eating from an apple in his palm.

__________________
"Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding. "

The next morning, Trent and I happened to be jogging on adjacent treadmills while we were with our clients, Amy and Joy. Amy came to me at 274 pounds a while back and here she was, down to 213. Such a loss. Such a shame.

Joy’s transformation under Trent wasn’t quite as dramatic, as she arrived at 227 and whittled her way down to 188. Her, I had less faith in to lose weight. Any day now, that 188 is going to be a 190 and it will only continue to climb from there. She didn’t know it, but when she was 227, she was prepping her body for immense growth potential in the longer term. The foundation was set, it merely needed to be built upon.

“What did you ask me last night?” Trent asked, pulling me from my daydream. We each spoke between huff of breath, giving occasional nods and smiles of encouragement to our clients while they casually jogged with their earbuds in.

I had to think for a moment to realize what he was talking about. Oh yeah. Last night. “If you had six months to make Mallory as fat as possible, how fat do you think she’d be at the end?”

He glanced forward confused then turned back to face me. “Why do you ask?”

“Well obviously, the simplest solution to our problem is to hook up Mallory and Neil. And unless Mallory is fat herself, what reason would she have to be interested in Neil?”

Trent thought for a moment and continued to run. He would occasionally look back to me as if he was gauging how serious I was.

I gave him the grin that had been convincing enough to get him to follow me this far.

“Fat enough,” he eventually replied.

----

Six months came and went. I kept Neil on his diet regimen and he continued to swell. We were able to update to high speed gigabit fiber internet, so he was working from home now, which meant pajama pants and stretchy, cotton undershirts. It meant Neil not noticing the usual hallmarks of weight gain, like restrictive clothing.

However, at over 500 pounds, even his stretchy comfy clothes weren’t enough to cover all of him. His bellybutton and midsection were as constantly visible as his face. As he sat on the sofa, spread across all three seats, it was hard to tell where he ended and the furniture began.

A bowl of m&m’s sat amongst numerous dishes of bite-sized snacks and he sunk his hand into the itty-bitty candies pulling out a handful that he brought to his open mouth. He tilted his head back and regulated the flow of m&m’s into his gaping maw from his chubby palm, lovingly devouring them as he once did my own vagina. It was amazing to see how far he had come.

Neil’s chewing slowed to a stop and his fat face sunk deeper into his fleshy hilltop shoulders. A roar of gas exploded from beneath him and reverberated through the couch, jostling the floor and walls. It continued to pour from him for ten whole seconds, followed closely by two more, each one shorter than the last but no less loud than the first.

He gasped for breath, exhausted from dispelling of the pressure that had been welling up inside him for who knows how long.

Luckily I kept a can of air-freshener nearby and began spraying the space around Neil, followed by the corners of the ceiling, letting the aromatic mist fall lightly and coat the room. I approached him and rubbed his belly to calm it. “Babe, I know it feels good to ease the tension in your stomach, but we’re expecting company so you have to compose yourself,” I explained as gently and innocently as I could.

He moaned, his eyes still closed and (sort of) nodded his head. “I’ll try,” he huffed.

I smiled at him in this state. He didn’t seem to care anymore. I guess he had accepted that this was how I wanted him. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but he also didn’t understand.

He must have felt so comfortable in the notion that he could completely let himself go and I would remain by his side. This was why I had initially worried about staying with him too long into his weight gain. But it was okay. Because our guests were going to make a clean break possible again.

Over the past six months, Trent and I kept communication to a minimum. He focused on fattening Mallory, his methods unknown to me, and I focused on seeing how much fatter I could make Neil so as to ensure he would not be so picky over his potential romantic partners.

Part of my method was connecting food with sex, presenting him cakes and pies with one hand, while plunging my other into the recesses of his bulbous flesh to find his shrunken member and tug on it until he received his other common release.

Sometimes I felt like I was reaching into Neil up to my elbow and the danger of getting lost in him gradually became a surprising turn-on of my own.

A knock at the door pulled me back to the present, suddenly again seeing Neil at his fattest before me, still eating from the dishes before him. I smiled as I turned to the door and called out: “Coming!”

I opened the door, revealing still-sexy Trent and a surprisingly chubby Mallory!

“Hey!” I shouted, hoping my shock at Mallory’s size was mistaken for excitement over being reunited. I hugged Mallory and honestly, it was probably a little too tight for a little too long. But I couldn’t help it! There was something exciting about feeling fewer layers of fat than I had been accustomed to. Through the strained fabric of her shirt,I could feel her potential. I could feel her nascent growth. It was exciting because it was a fresh start to me. Beginning anew. And I realized: now that I’m around, Mallory’s growth hasn’t seen its end.

The seeds had been sown. It was time to let them bloom.

I hugged Trent, our hard bodies briefly embracing each other an alien sensation to, I think, both of us. We gave ourselves a couple of pats to signify the end of the hug and I invited them in.

Trent’s jaw dropped as his eyes landed on Neil, who took up a sizeable chunk of the living room. He was a fixture. He was part of the decor, now.

“Hey, man!” Trent said, after a pause. “You’re looking good!” he leaned over the coffee table and the snack bowls and plates covering it to extend a hand to Neil. Neil’s chubby, chocolate-slicked fingers wrapped around Trent’s palm and they shook for a moment. Trent tried to wipe his hand on his pants on the downlow, but he wasn’t successful at being sneaky.

Mallory was also in shock but gave a friendly wave. Neil’s face betrayed his disbelief at Mallory’s added poundage as well. She was wearing stretchy yoga pants, but they were painted over her thicker form. Her shirt allowed the w-shape of her underbelly to peek through, obviously a favorite from several sizes ago.

I was impressed by Trent’s progress with her. He had done a wonderful job. She was becoming quite the work of art, but she was still a work-in-progress.

“Please, make yourselves at home! Dinner’s almost ready,” I announced.

----

Trent joined me in the kitchen, while I made final preparations of our meal: Cheesy garlic bread, a large bowl of salad, a pot of creamy chicken alfredo, fried mushrooms with a tangy aioli sauce, and a plate of bruschetta. And for dessert: a tiramisu recipe I found being shared around the feedism community.

It was both surprising and unsurprising to find a community of people that enjoyed fattening others or being fattened themselves. I had only recently discovered this pleasure, but I knew I wasn’t a pioneer and was merely late to the game.

“He’s huge!” Trent whispered, grinning. “What happened to him?”

I smiled at Trent as I stirred the pot of chicken alfredo and breathed deeply over the delicious smell escaping the stove top. “I did,” I eventually answered. “Besides, you didn’t do too bad yourself, mister,” I said, placing the lid on the pot and the wooden spoon on a dish on the counter. “Mallory looks like she could devour entire wedding cakes by herself.”

“She can,” Trent proudly declared. “And she has.”

“How much?” I ask, pouring a glass of wine and handing it to him.

“256 as of this morning,” he answered, taking the glass. “Yours?”

I smiled as I poured myself a glass. “514.” I spun around and we raised our glasses but just before clinking them together, I toasted: “To fat.”

“To fat,” Trent replied, tapping his glass to mine and taking a sip.

As I drank, we glanced into the living room to see Mallory giggling with a smiling Neil. They had met before at that dinner, but now they were getting along swimmingly. She was even pinching from the same snack bowls and plates as Neil, crowding the space between her cheeks with sweet and savory morsels, adding to the subtle-yet-significant changes still to come on her body.

“They’re cute,” I said, taking a long drink.

----

Look. I’m not a mastermind, okay? I didn’t mean to make it seem as if I had orchestrated some perfect plot that I knew would end up where it did. I’m not like the woman that was in the news a while back for being a serial fattener. Mrs. Wider? Ms. Large? Big. Bigger.

Madame Bigger.

But the way things turned out, maybe I’m more like her than I realize.

You see, a little over eighteen months after the dinner at our apartment, Neil was, well, he couldn’t-

He was immobile.

There, I said it. I had fattened him up so much, that his weight was pinning him to the bed. It certainly didn’t creep up on us. When he started to crest 600 pounds, we began to make preparations. We realized that caring for Neil was now impossible for one person to handle on their own. We couldn’t just leave Mallory with the burden of looking after Neil after we (sort of) tricked her into falling in love with him.

At least, this was how I sold it to Trent. I explained to him that Neil and Mallory were our piggies. They were our responsibility because of what we had done to them. Without our influence, they may have led normal lives at normal weights. We owed it to them to minimize the negative impact of our actions.

For a moment, Trent was skeptical. I laid it out for him as simply as I could, but it wasn’t until after I made it clear that he and I could still be together openly, that he was on board.

So the fattening continued. We had instilled in them a sexual need for food and fullness. We had reprogrammed our lovers to grow without constraint and to openly accept the means with which they expanded the reach of their width.

With all of our incomes combined, we bought a home large enough for the four of us.

Getting Neil into the upstairs bedroom was a task, but we made it happen. It was almost like getting a Volkswagon to the second floor, but he still had use of his own legs at the time, so that helped. But once we squeezed him through the bedroom doorway and eased him onto his bariatric bed, that was the last time he bothered walking.

We’ve made accommodations and are diligent about keeping him clean and free of sores, but for the most part, the bed is where he stays.

Having Neil upstairs was tricky for Mallory. By the time we moved into the house, she was around 450, so she usually stayed put for long periods of time. When we talked about getting another bed in Neil’s room for Mallory, she was against it. And I could see why.

She was scared. A new bed like the one Neil lives on, would be disastrous for her. Sure, she was already fat, but if she were to get too comfortable in any one spot in the house, and if she was no longer receiving the health benefits of going up and down stairs throughout every day, then just about every calorie she consumed would expand her already expansive form.

So against her protests, we got the bed anyway.

Which brings us to today.

“Are you ready?” I ask Mallory as she sits on the couch. Trent walks up behind me and places his hands on my narrow shoulders. As we await her answer, we take her in.

A week and a half ago, she clocked in at 572 pounds. And though I know she’s now a great deal heavier than that, I can’t put a precise number on it. Her breasts are like slightly smaller versions of her immense belly, creating a trifecta of bulbous, fatty, flesh leading her everywhere she goes (in the rare occasion she goes anywhere at all). Likewise, on the southern hemisphere of her celestial body, is her enormous ass. Like Neil before her, she’s reached a point where the sofa is more accurately a chair, leaving next to zero room for anyone else to squeeze in on either side of her hips.

She looks down at the body we have helped her achieve. Her hands sweetly slide over the rounded edges of her body as she takes a moment to fully realize her new dimensions.

Mallory pauses for a moment and rests her hands and arms on the platform of her immense belly. She takes a deep breath through her nose, and simultaneously breathes out through both her nose and her ass.

A drawn out muffled groan of a fart slowly pours from her ass cheeks. It lasts longer than I anticipate and we smile at Mallory with pride as she blushes with embarrassment.

I cover my nose and smile as I tell her: “You and Neil were made for each other.”

She lowers her gaze and smiles discreetly before looking back up to us. She nods before letting us know: “I’m ready.”

Getting Mallory off the couch turned out to be a foreboding indication of the obstacle to come. I took point, supporting Mallory from the front and steadily guiding her upwards while I ascended the stairs backwards and held her arms.

Trent took the rear and pushed against her sofa-sized butt, providing the support she needed to climb upwards.

More than a few times, Mallory accidentally farted on Trent, but he was understanding and she was apologetic. I was just thankful I was smart enough to be on the proper end of a true fatty. Trent still had a thing or two to learn.

We reach the second floor and guide Mallory to a reinforced bench we had installed for Neil’s journey to the top. She eases her mass upon it and leans back, allowing her body to breathe. Insidious rumbles emanate from her enormous belly and her body works on her most recent meal. Soon, those insidious rumbles become insidious releases.

For a moment, I think it’s the wide and bolted-down bench groaning from the effort of having to support such an enormous woman, but I soon realize it’s the gas escaping from underneath her, rocking the very foundation of our home.

Trent and I trade glances as I fan my nose and he pinches his. “Sounds like she’s ready,” I say to Trent loud enough for Mallory to hear.

“Smells like it too,” he concludes, his voice muffled by his hand covering all points through which he can inhale.

He and I each take an arm and an elbow, Mallory unexpectedly engulfing both of us as we bring her to her feet. She lumbers towards the bedroom door as Trent and I follow her. I lean ahead and grab the knob. I turn it and shove open the door, revealing Neil’s half-ton body.

Neil’s bed begins to lean him forward so he can see who is entering his room. He’s able to control his bed with subtle gestures and finger movements.

Mallory’s bed has the same amenities.

“Hey baby,” Mallory huffs to Neil as she turns sideways to squeeze through the doorway while Neil watches. After some wiggling and shoving, Mallory shuffles to her bed and stands against the edge of it before slowly rotating her fat body. Trent and I help her ease into a sitting position. She begins to slide back onto the bed, her body wobbling with every shift in weight. Her belly doesn’t shake so much as undulates as she settles into her permanent spot for the foreseeable future.

“Do you feel that hole beneath you?” I ask, concerned, so she knows this is information she needs to listen to.

She nods, the fat framing her face morphing with even the most subtle of head movements.

I reach to a control panel beside her bed and press a button.

“Ooh!” she shouts as the device that will now serve as both her toilet and her bidet slowly rises up against her ass, between her cheeks, and deep into her flesh, reducing the speed of its approach as it begins to breach her anus and twat. She moans at the sensation I cannot see but know she is experiencing.

And yes, this device sort of acts as her vibrator as well.

See, up to this point, accommodations for immobile fat people have been reactionary. But if you were expecting such accommodations for a woman or man that you just knew would someday outgrow their ability to walk and had enough time to prep, well...you could do wonders for your fatty.

“Rest up,” I tell Mallory as I stroke her hair. Her eyelids appear heavy as she lazily looks over to me and smiles. “Your next meal is in ninety minutes. Plenty of time for a restorative sleep.”

Mallory closes her eyes and nods, her smile remaining as she drifts off to sleep.

I press another button that causes the bed to revert to a more horizontal position and watch Mallory’s fat upper body slowly lay back, already grunting from the euphoric pleasure of sleep after immense exertion.

“Mallory’s staying in here now?” Neil asks. “With me?”

I had forgotten about him, absorbed by mine and Trent’s latest accomplishment. I slowly turn and give him a friendly smile to put his mind at ease.

“She’s gotten too fat to make regular visits up and down the stairs, so we all came to an agreement that this was the best for both of you and your budding relationship,” I explain, almost condescendingly but mostly just trying to be as comforting as possible.

Neil closes his eyes and moans contentedly. A muffled fart eases its way from beneath his incredible bulk. He takes a deep breath and moans again, only louder. “She’s going to love it,” he says dreamily as he drifts off, a gentle snore confirming that he had indeed passed out and would be out till the next meal.

We keep their sleep patterns irregular, as that has had a proven effect on weight gain in numerous studies. This sleep will be ninety minutes. But the next one could be anywhere from three hours to ten. As long as the body cannot rely on a regular feeding pattern, it will store as much fat as possible as energy reserves.

Basically, Neil and Mallory’s bodies are in a constant state of preparation for a famine that never comes.

I look at Trent and see him taking in the enormity of our subjects, each of them many times larger and heavier than they were when we met them. His eyes slide away from Mallory’s exquisitely obese body and gradually rise to meet my gaze. I give him a mischievous smile. We approach each other with a purpose and become immediately entangled in our slender, spindly limbs.

As our sleeping giants slumber, Trent and I make love on the floor between their pedestals. We are treated to the sounds of digestion and fat creation. We are serenaded by the music of bodies fattening, deeply resonant expulsions of gas regularly being dispersed from overfed asses.

The human form changing on either side of us, at opposite ends from Trent and I on almost every conceivable spectrum imaginable; not least of which, the fat & muscle scale. Even in the act of sex, we are burning calories equivalent to a fraction of the calories being consumed by Neil and Mallory at any given moment.

We finally made it. Together openly.

I have Trent and the fatties have each other. And as we work on a way for Mallory and Neil to have intercourse, advances in VR and gaming technology make it more and more feasible every day.

We’re far from perfect, but I guess we’re a family. We look out for each other and care for one another.

And above all else, we make sure that no one ever goes hungry.

THE END

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"Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding. "